The Lone Wolf
by lojzek91
Summary: 'When winter comes, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.' What about the lone wolf under guidance of a mockingbird and a merman? Rating is like that because blood and stuff. Happening after S4E8, some of the later book canon is kept. Updating once a week.
1. Chapter 1

"Shall we go?", she asked, walking down the steps with her new look. Black hair, black feathered dress. Gone was the auburn hair that made everyone know she is related to the Tullys of Rivverrun. She assumed a new identity; an identity that would set her plans into motion.

Lord Baelish was looking at her as she walked down those steps with a look that would scare most girls. But Alayne Stone wasn't easily scared. Not since Sansa Stark witnessed her father's beheading, heard about the death of the younger brothers, the older one, mother's and the uncertainty surrounding her little sister. Fear was no longer a part of her mind. Her mind was set on one thing. Well, maybe two, but one was much more important than the other. Next to Lord Baelish, young Lord of the Vale, Robyn Arryn, was looking at Alayne in awe. She smiled to him without saying anything and accepted Lord Baelish's hand with a grace only an untroubled lady could impose. She had learned to hide her troubles very well.

Petyr and Alayne were to take Robyn on a tour around the Vale, to introduce the young lord to his subjects. Afterwards, they had a more pressing matter on their hands. Though it was hard for Alayne to converse with Petyr in privacy. Robyn was always right next to them, no matter what either of them told him. Alayne has given up after a few tries. Later she would have more time to talk with Petyr, she said to herself. Robyn always went to bed very early, undoubtedly that was the work of his lady mother, one of the few things she did right about his raising. After seeing she doesn't mind, Petyr stopped trying to get rid of Robyn as well.

As they stepped out of the impregnable Eyrie, there was snow everywhere. It brought a smile on Alayne's face. As always, it reminded her of Sansa Stark's beloved Winterfell. She couldn't help but smile due to all her fond memories of the place, for a moment forgetting it was in the hands of the treacherous Boltons. When she reminded herself about that, she shed a small tear. Luckily neither Petyr nor Robyn noticed that. You are not Sansa Stark anymore, she told herself. You are Alayne Stone until further notice. Never forget that. She would have to remind herself of that every day. But it will be worth it in the end, she'd say to herself every time she did that. In the end, all pain will go away and she would be able to become Sansa Stark once more.

Passing through the Bloody Gate, a guard looked at them with weary eyes. How they must suffer here in all this cold, she was thinking. But she knew they cannot leave their posts before the lords. They have their homes further down in the Vale. They go there every winter, like us, she said to herself.

In truth, the winter was coming and there are little options of sustaining the Eyrie when it comes. They hadn't told that to Robyn yet, he was still afraid of the simple fact that he will be on the road for a few days straight. For someone that has never left his home before it was sure a tough thing to swallow. But, as Petyr said, it was ''time for Robyn to leave the nest'' and he was right, like so often before.

"Alayne, will you hold me close when we are in the carriage? I'm afraid."

"Of course, Sweetrobin. There is no need to be afraid, though. Carriages are a very comfortable way of travelling and you cannot fall out of them unless you actively try."

She tried to calm him down. It was all she could do. She still felt bad for slapping him. But he ruined Winterfell, she said to herself. He mocked it, belittling it. She knew she was right to hit him, but she still felt bad. Her lady mother raised her up to be a good lady and ladies were not meant to hit other people. That was reserved for warriors. Like Ser Meryn Trant, a little voice inside her head asked? At the thought of that, she battled back her tears again. She was so close to dying that day until Tyrion saved her. And the thanks she gave him was to let him rot in the dungeons of King's Landing. But she couldn't yell at him to come with her or she wouldn't have escaped at all. He's probably dead now, another voice said, so why bother thinking about him? The voice was right. Good people rarely live long enough to see something become of them. He was also a Lannister, a family that caused her enough grief she shouldn't think about saving any of them, even if that one Lannister was always nice to her. But all that didn't matter now. She must stop thinking about King's Landing and start thinking about the task at hand. The North remembers, they all say. And the North is at its strongest in winter, which is about to come and it's promising to be a harsh and long one. It's been too long since there was a Stark in Winterfell and there must always be one, Sansa's father always used to say. The gods must be angry that there isn't one to send such a harsh winter. They must be calmed and sooner rather than later.

Finally they reached the carriages. Petyr entered first, followed by Robyn and lastly Alayne got in as well. As soon as she sat herself down, Robyn sat in her lap and Alayne pressed him to herself. Robyn always liked that. Petyr sat across them and smiled wordlessly. No doubt he was still checking the dress. The handiwork was truly amazing. All those feathers sewed on one by one made her look like she was really an Arryn. She would surely be thought of as one if the dress wasn't black like coal. A trained eye like his would also surely notice that the feathers are sewn on in a pattern resembling a mockingbird. Alayne was sure Petyr took notice of that immediately. He hasn't spoken since his last try to send Robyn away for a moment and even before that, he only said a few words since she got down the stairs.

The ride was short, the visit even shorter. It was just a small lord of the Vale, commanding perhaps 500 men at his best day, but Robyn had to present himself to all the lords, small and powerful alike. The lord was very kind, though, and Robyn seemed to have genuinely enjoyed himself. He didn't speak much, Petyr did most of the talking, but for the first time since leaving the Eyrie, Alayne saw Robyn smile at the fool the lord had in his castle. The fool really was something; even Petyr was laughing at his japes. Petyr wouldn't have laughed quite like that if he wasn't, Alayne knew. She spent enough time with him lately to know when his laugh was sincere. It brought her relief. The lord even offered them to stay for the night, but they had to insist that they had to go onwards. It took them another five hours to get to Redfort where Lord Horton greeted them warmly. He provided them with drink and threw a small feast in honour of the new Lord Paramount. After the feast the servants escorted them all to their chambers. Each of them had his own chamber while the escorts that arrived with them were shown to the servants' chambers. Alayne entered her chamber and found in it an already lit brazier that emanated warmth and filling the room with it. The bedclothes were red, which didn't surprise her much: the Redfort colour is red, after all. Not like she cared about the colour. She thanked the young maid that showed her to her room and bid her good night.

Not five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened with a barely audible creak and Petyr entered.

"How is my dear daughter faring?"

"Very well, Father. The chamber is much to my liking."

Smiling, he sat down on the bed next to her.

"We are finally alone. I thought you wanted to tell me something way back at the Eyrie?"

"I did. Well, not so much tell, but ask."

"Say it, my dear daughter."

"I… It might be a hard thing to ask," she started, but Petyr cut her off.

"Nothing is too hard for me if you are the person asking for it."

Alayne smiled shortly at him.

"I know that. But maybe this request is more like for someone who hears a lot of whispers."

"Well, I hear some whispers. What is it you would like to know that you don't already?"

"You see, I have a suspicion about something, but I cannot confirm it."

"I think you know what you want to ask. And I must tell you that unfortunately, that's one of the things I haven't really heard yet. Though I have a suspicion about it as well. Who are you suspecting, my dear Alayne?"

"I think it might have been Lord Bolton."

Petyr smiled knowingly and put both his hands on her shoulders.

"We were thinking about the same thing, then. I suppose you want to know one more thing then. And I think I have an answer to that question."

"Then tell me. Please. I have to know."

"Bear Isle, though Lady Mormont is much too unpredictable to rely on her. But more importantly, White Harbour."

"Would these two…?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Alayne. But it's worth an enquiry. Especially the latter."

"Can you help me with this?"

"Of course. Anything for you."

He leaned in just a little closer, but Alayne reacted quickly and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Father."

Petyr stood up, unabashed by her resistance with a wicked grin on his face.

"We can go there after we finish the tour of the Vale. Which will be in a month at the very least. Good night, Alayne."

"Good night, Father."

Petyr bowed slightly, turned around on his heels and left the chamber. After he shut the door Alayne undressed and slipped under the sheets. But she didn't fall asleep. Instead she was thinking of everything Petyr told her. Manderlys and Mormonts. She remembered that the Manderly family was one of the strongest bannermen in the North, and also the only family in the North that held the Seven. This could prove pivotal in her quest. Though with Petyr on her side, nothing should really be too hard. He may be strange and even creepy at times, but he is more capable than most, she told herself. She also reminded herself how Petyr has changed. When she arrived at King's Landing, she saw in him a man that wanted everything. Lately, it seemed to her, he didn't want all that anymore. She knew he wanted her above all at the moment. But there was something about him that she found weird. Was it his confession that he really only loved her lady mother? That now that she is gone, she is the closest he can get to her?

What about Robyn? She suddenly remembered they would have to explain everything to him, from moving to a winter residence to prolonging the journey for a few visits in the North. Telling him all this will take some very careful planning. I'll have to talk to Petyr about this, she said to herself just before sleep overtook her involuntarily.

**Hi there! Comments are welcome, as are constructive criticisms.**

**So we're taking off where the episode ended. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.**


	2. Chapter 2

She was flying. For a moment she wasn't sure where exactly she was, but then she looked down and it all became clear to her. She started crying tears of joy as she saw the familiar Broken Tower, the huge godswood and all the other buildings that held so much of her memories. She just had to fly closer to it, to see it from up close again, after all this time. As she flew lower, she noticed something was off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something there that wasn't supposed to be. As she flew closer and closer, she realized. There were wrong banners flying over the walls. The flayed man and the twin towers proudly towered over the others while the Stark direwolf lay on the ground, torn in some places and dirty in others. As if that wasn't enough, on the spikes above the gates she saw the heads of her father, mother, Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon, even Lady's head was there. She heard cheers coming from somewhere and it completely broke her down. This time the tears were pure sorrow. She had never cried so intensely in her life, not even when she heard the news of the Red Wedding. As she composed herself, she noticed something shiny in the distance. When she reached the object, she saw a plate so polished it could almost act like a mirror. She wanted to see her face, but she had a bad feeling about it. She knew she had to look, so she told herself that it is important. When she finally looked into it, she screamed at the sight of her visage. What she saw was the face that didn't resemble hers in the slightest, but she recognized it nonetheless. She couldn't ever forget that face. She screamed again.

"Alayne! Alayne, wake up!"

Someone was shaking her. There were a lot of different voices.

"No, it can't be! Please, say it can't be!"

"Alayne, calm down, it was just a bad dream."

The person shaking her hugged her as well. She started crying into the shoulder.

"Everyone leave the room. Let me be alone with my dear daughter for a moment, she is in much distress."

The doors open and shut and Petyr waited until she stopped crying.

"What were you dreaming, Alayne?"

"I… I was f-flying over Winterfell and there were wrong b-banners and J-Joffrey and all the heads, I just couldn't…"

"Shh. Calm down. Nothing like that really happened; you had a bad dream, that's all. Joffrey and the other Lannisters can't hurt you any longer."

"I-It wasn't Lannisters. B-Boltons and F-Freys."

"I see. Either way, they can't hurt you here in the Vale. You're perfectly safe here. You know that."

"Yes, Father. I-I will try to remember that. When do we continue the journey?"

Petyr finally let go of her, sensing her calming down. He was visibly glad of that fact. Probably her nakedness helped too. His eyes traced her bosom quickly, but not quick enough for Alayne not to notice. He knew that and probably didn't care. At times her father was just a sleazy bastard, Alayne thought.

"We continue as soon as we are ready to go, which should be shortly after breakfast. I will see you downstairs, Alayne."

He turned around to leave.

"Father," she said softly.

He turned around. "Yes?"

"I will make them suffer. All of them. The North Remembers. And after them, the Lannisters are next. They shall learn that you can never, ever hope to really tame a wolf. They. Will. Pay."

The coldness in her voice seemed to unsettle even Petyr. His eyes widened in an emotion Alayne thought was actual fear. He stared at her with widened eyes for more than a minute before finally coming back to his senses.

"Sometimes I forget you're not really a Stone, Alayne. But you never cease to remind me whenever I forget. I will message Lord Manderly immediately."

"No. He must not know. We aren't sure."

"As you say."

Alayne got up from the bed the instant the door shut and quickly dressed. A lady never forgets her courtesies, she told to herself a few times. When she took care of that, she started her journey to the mess hall, looking as gracious as ever.

Upon entering the hall and seeing Horton Redfort on the dais, she noticed everyone was watching her. Like a proper lady she dismissed their looks and walked directly to the dais and curtsied.

"Lord Redfort, I apologize for waking up the whole castle. I'm afraid some dreams are just so much scarier than others."

"There is no need to concern yourself about this, lady. Please, have a peaceful breakfast."

"You are most kind, my lord."

Following a small curtsy, she sat down next to Petyr who was eating bacon and some eggs. She took a bit of black bread but then she noticed lemoncakes and completely forgot about the bread. Petyr was smiling almost as much as she was when she tasted the cakes.

"I knew you would grab those as soon as you see them."

"Father, these are absolutely great!"

"I know. I told the cooks yesterday that my daughter adores lemoncakes and politely asked him to bake some."

"Thank you so much, Father."

She kissed him on the cheek. He really knows how to play me, she thought to herself. But I know how to play him too so he better watch out.

Robyn was, as always, late to the breakfast. When he finally arrived, the hall was almost empty. The servants went about their daily business and only the Redfort family, Petyr, Alayne and their servants remained. Robyn looked like he hasn't really woken up yet. As expected for someone with such a stunted growth, he barely ate anything.

"Uncle Baelish, where are we planning on going today?"

"If we are lucky, we plan on visiting every castle from here to Wickenden by nightfall. And then I thought we might take a boat to Runestone tomorrow. But I'm afraid the Vale is a very big place, my lord. It will take quite some time."

"I understand that. But, we are going back to the Eyrie when this is done, right?"

Alayne and Petyr exchanged a brief look.

"Sweetrobin, do you remember the white raven that arrived at the Eyrie a few days ago?" Robyn nodded. "Well, do you know what that raven means?"

"I know it has something to do with winter."

"Yes. It means that winter is coming. And when winter comes… we can't live in the Eyrie any longer."

"What do you mean, Alayne? We have to, it's our stronghold, _my_ stronghold!"

"I understand that, Robyn. But the Arryns have a winter stronghold. Did your mother ever tell you about the Gates of the Moon?"

"You mean the Moon Door?"

"No, no. Gates of the Moon is the name of the castle where the Arryns live through the winter. It's quite close to the Eyrie, it's just _not_ Eyrie."

Petyr jumped in at this point. "You don't have to worry, my lord. The castle is just as safe as the Eyrie and you will have the same servants you had up to now. Nothing but the castle will be different."

They could both see the shock and disbelief in his eyes. There was still something that he didn't really understand about the happenings.

"D-Does this castle have a Moon Door?"

Alayne widened her lips in a smile. "That I don't know. But I guess it has something that's at least similar."

He wasn't nearly as impossible to deal with since Lady Arryn died, which surprised everyone that knew him before the fact. This fact alone made Alayne happy. She might even not hate him as much as she used to. No, not hate, she reminded herself. What she felt towards him was not as strong as that. She couldn't find a word that would describe it, but she never really tried to, either.

So that was settled. Robyn has somehow managed to understand that he won't be going to Eyrie in a while. Now if only there was a way to tell him about the rest of the plans she and Petyr had.

The chance came about two or maybe three weeks later when they were in the final stretch of parading young Lord Paramount of the Vale. All they had left to visit were the forts in Coldwater and the Sisters. Young lord seemed troubled at something and wouldn't speak with anyone but Alayne for a few days. Even she didn't manage to find out what bothered the young lord. But that day it all came together, on a boat from Snakewoods to Coldwater. Robyn was standing there on the side of the boat, watching in the empty sea before him. Alayne joined him there.

"Lord Robyn? Feeling better today?"

He didn't say anything. All he did was take a long breath and continue staring in the distance. Alayne then offered him his hand, which he took in his reluctantly. Then he turned to face her.

"Alayne, I was wondering. Is there anything behind this sea? It looks so big and endless."

She was slightly surprised at this question, but she answered anyway. "Yes, my lord, there most certainly is. The part of the land that's behind us is called the Fingers. They still belong to the Vale. If you follow the land to the west, you'll come to the Sisters. The Sisters are three islands where we will visit as our last stop."

"And what's beyond that?"

Sansa answered almost like they were there already. "The North." A small tear got in her eye when she said the word, but she quickly battled it back. Luckily Robyn didn't notice that.

"And the North doesn't belong to the Vale?"

"No, my lord. The North is a separate part of the Seven Kingdoms. Until recently, the house that was Lord Paramount of the North was the family Stark. Your mother's sister was married to a Stark. Alas, they got in a misunderstanding with the Iron Throne and the North was passed to the Boltons. There are no Starks left now."

Robyn stood there and looked at Alayne in awe. "Why are there no Starks left, Alayne?"

This time she had to try hard not to cry. "They are all dead."

"That's horrible."

They both turned around at the sound of Petyr's words, startled by the unexpected guest.

"My lord, you know that by a decree of the late king Joffrey I am a Lord Paramount as well. Of the Riverlands. That's where your mother came from. And there is a certain lord in the North that wants to meet with me."

"But… But aren't the Riverlands a different part than the North, Uncle Petyr?"

"You are right, my lord. I don't know why lord Manderly might want to meet with me, but his fortress of White Harbour isn't very far from the Sisters that Alayne mentioned to you. Would you mind if we prolong the journey for a few days so I can pay a visit to lord Manderly?"

For a short while, Robyn didn't know what to say. On one hand, he wanted to go home again, but on the other, all this travelling had made him eager to see more of Westeros. Alayne could see it in her eyes. Robyn has somehow overcome most of his fear.

"Let's go to White Harbour, Uncle Petyr," he said at last. "Let me see what the North looks like."

Petyr and Alayne shared a very proud smile with one another. The convincing of a shy child didn't take long. But who knows how long it would take to convince lord Manderly, Alayne thought as the smile left her face.

**OK, chapter 2. The tour of the Vale is almost at an end. What awaits the trio in White Harbour? Find out next week.**

**Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter. Thanks to everyone that read this chapter. Thanks to anyone who will take his time to maybe comment on it.**


	3. Chapter 3

The cold awoke her. She could barely tell the time, yet somehow that cold seemed so familiar to her. It wasn't the mountainous cold of the Vale, it was something much different. She quickly dressed and ran out of her cabin to see why the cold was so familiar. When she got out, she saw land. She never saw those rocks before, yet she knew she was finally back in the North. She could not help but laugh loudly for a while. She actually cried tears of joy, something she hasn't done in a long, long time. Tears of fear, of sorrow, those happened often since she left Winterfell. She saw the merman banners flying proudly above the port, the White Castle that was every bit as majestic as she had imagined from Old Nan's stories. She laughed for quite a while.

"My dear Alayne, are you fine?"

"Oh, yes, Father, never better. Why?" she asked, still smiling from ear to ear.

"I was afraid that your laugh was a symptom of some kind of disease," Petyr calmly answered.

"It's just that I'm happier than I have been in a long time."

"How does a mere sight of an unknown city amuse you so, I can't understand," he said, cheekily smiling himself.

"An unknown city, yes. And my last bastion of hope."

"We need to tread carefully, Alayne. Let me do the talking, at least until we are alone with lord Manderly."

She nodded. "Don't worry, Father, I won't say anything stupid."

"That's my girl," he said through a smile and caressed her cheek.

Before long, the boat was safely docked and Alayne, Petyr, Robyn and their escort started walking through the streets. Everyone was looking at them with a puzzled expression. Understandably. What business might a non-Northern noble family have here in White Harbour. And one of them even looks like an Arryn. They know the Vale doesn't stretch to here. They were better off not knowing who they are.

Petyr saw horsemen approach from the distance. "Let's wait here," he said. "I think I see lord Manderly's envoy."

The horseman and three guards approached their group and stopped before them. The smallfolk moved away so they weren't stomped. They also didn't mind much for the high lords' talks. The horseman in white armour with a merman drawn on his chest dismounted. The guards holding the Manderly banners remained horsed. After dismounting, the knight bowed to them. Alayne noticed that this knight was quite fat. His voice echoed through the port as he spoke.

"Lords Baelish and Arryn, I presume. And Lord Baelish's baseborn daughter." Of course, she had to play that part still. "My name is Wylis Manderly and I am lord Wyman's only son and heir to White Castle."

Alayne didn't forget her courtesies and kindly bowed to the knight. Petyr spoke. "It's my honour to be welcomed by such a high-esteemed knight such as you. We are who you think we are, a bit early, yes, but the winds were very favourable."

"Let's skip the courtesies now. My lord Father is expecting you. He sent a carriage to pick you up." Saying that, he pointed behind the guards and finally they could see two beautiful white horses pulling a delicately ornamented carriage that was as white as the snow that lay on the ground. Alayne stood in awe at the sight of the carriage. It really was a view to remember.

Trying not to waste too much time, Petyr, Robyn and Alayne quickly entered the carriage and the ride began. The horses weren't as gracious as they looked, since the way was quite bumpy.

"Lord Manderly seems excited to meet us," Alayne observed.

Petyr answered almost in an instant. "Lord Manderly has always been known as a very kind host. It's not exactly the stuff of legends, but pretty much everyone knows that he would never accept a guest without showing him all the courtesies and more on top of that."

The journey to the New Castle took quite some time, but the horses either got more gracious or the road started becoming much better. Farther away from the docks they went, the smoother the ride was. Alayne watched through the window of the carriage and a smile didn't leave her face even for a second. She was almost home, she could feel it.

As the carriage approached the castle on the hill, Alayne watched it with her mouth agape. She pulled her head in and couldn't conceal her excitement. "The castle is so gorgeous!"

"One of the prettiest in the North, I hear," Petyr answered. Robyn was quiet. He didn't know anything about the North so he preferred not to come about as dumb. His metamorphosis was truly an amazing sight to behold. Not even a month earlier he would join in everything, if only to show his ignorance. He stopped looking and acting like the spoiled brat Alayne viewed him as while Lady Lysa was alive.

The carriage came to a stop. Ser Wylis came to the carriage. "We're inside the walls. You can come out now, the Merman's court is right here."

They stepped out of the carriage and thanked Ser Wylis for escorting them. He bowed, still on horseback and went behind the hall, presumably to the stables. One of the guards walked before them and the two guards at the gate to the court opened it. What a sight! Wooden planks tightly stuck together and on them the finest pictures of sea creatures Alayne has ever seen. The court was quite full of people, mostly Manderly bannermen. There was one Frey banner and it made Alayne sick. Luckily it seemed like there were only three people sitting by that banner, each of them looking almost the same. She looked all over the hall but there were no Bolton banners, which calmed her down again. And on the dais Lord Wyman Manderly and his fat were sitting in all their glory. Alayne knew she shouldn't be thinking like that, but she couldn't help it. The man's waist was humongous.

As Lord Wyman took notice of the visitors, he stood up as quickly as his fat allowed him, which is to say, not very quickly. His deep voice echoed through the hall. "Young Lord Arryn, Lord Baelish, Lady Stone," he started. Alayne liked that he called her a lady instead of a baseborn daughter or something to that effect. She already liked the man. "Welcome to White Harbour and New Castle. Please, come here and sit at my table. It's not very often we get to see guests of such esteem here in our city. Your escort may sit wherever they please."

Petyr bowed and urged Robyn and Alayne to do the same. "We thank you for your kind welcome, Lord Manderly, and are glad to be able to share your table."

Without saying more, the trio went to the dais and sat themselves down at his table. The chair to his right was reserved for Wylis, so they sat on the three chairs on Wyman's left, Petyr sitting closest to him, Alayne next to him and Robyn next to her.

"My dear friends, eat! I have ordered a small feast in your honour."

Alayne looked over the hall. It was so nice to once again be on the dais with most people below her that didn't hate her. She intentionally refused to look in the corner of the hall where the Freys were. When she wasn't looking around, she was talking to Robyn who seemed impressed by Wyman and the feast. Petyr said something to Wyman from time to time, but Alayne couldn't hear what he was whispering. After a while, Ser Wylis came to the hall and Alayne noticed he looked very much like his father, down to the walrus moustache and the fat. He didn't like to talk, Alayne noticed. His daughters, Wynafryd and Wylla, were both older than her but they seemed very friendly. What she also noticed was that they laugh almost all the time.

Not more than an hour's turn passed and Wyman stood up. "My friends and subjects! I shall be leaving now, but you can stay here and feast until you find something better to do. Just try to make sure not to stay here the whole day, you've still got some work to do."

Everybody in the hall stood up and bowed as Wyman waved at Petyr, Alayne and Robyn to follow him. His granddaughters followed as well.

"You know, Lord Baelish," he started while walking up the steps to his chambers, "that this castle is much younger than the city?"

"Of course, my lord, I have heard about it. The old one is being used as a prison, isn't it?"

"You are damn right. And you know who gave it to us, along with this city?"

"I think it was one of the Stark kings, wasn't it?"

"Right again. Those pesky Gardeners exiled us from the Reach and we have only gods and Starks to thank for existing. Wylla, Wynafryd, will you two be so kind as to go play some games with young Lord Arryn here? Of course, if the young lord agrees."

Robyn looked cautiously at the big man, but Alayne patted his shoulder and nodded to him, so he just said "Yes. I agree." The moment they got to the top of the steps, the Manderly granddaughters and Robyn disappeared.

"Now that we're alone, we can speak more privately. I think that's what you said to me in your letter, didn't you, Lord Baelish?"

"Yes, my lord. Me and my daughter here need to speak to you in private, but we must have your word that nobody else knows what we will be talking about."

"Naturally. Over here, if you will." He showed the door to his left and they entered a simple room that had a table and three chairs in it. There was also a lit brazier that emanated warmth and Alayne jumped closer to it to warm her hands a bit. Lord Wyman and Petyr sat down. Alayne joined not a minute later.

"So, as I was saying," Wyman started again, "only gods and Starks are to thank for our existence. But unfortunately, now all I have to thank is the gods, since there aren't any Starks left. A sad story, I'm sure you'll agree."

"As sad as a story can get. I couldn't help but notice you keep the Seven here. I thought all the North kept the old gods."

"Ha-ha, Baelish, you are damn right! That's another thing we have to thank Starks for. We are Reachmen after all. Starks let us keep the Seven and in return they didn't ask for anything but loyalty. And that we have given them, until the bitter end."

Alayne silently cried after hearing him speak. Lord Wyman noticed that.

"Lady Stone, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, my lord."

"She is most distressed by the... Dissolve of the Stark family, my lord.

"It is a sad story, yes. I find it weird but oddly satisfying not only the North is mourning."

"Is it, though?" Petyr asked.

"Well, not all of it. Some."

Petyr looked at the man for a minute, clearly judging him and thinking of his next move. He must have seen something appealing, because he smiled. "The young lady is actually the reason I asked if I could visit you, my lord," Petyr said, "But first I must ask you this: How loyal were you to the Stark family?"

Lord Wyman put his hand on his heart and said "As loyal as one can get. Stood with them until the bitter end, never doubting them. I swear to the old gods and the new, if I ever thought of betraying a Stark, let my heart fail now and let me die."

"That's good to hear," Petyr said with a grin. "Alayne, won't you tell lord Wyman about you?"

Wyman's eyes narrowed. Alayne stood up and went to his chair. "My lord, look at me."

Lord Wyman did as he was told. "What am I supposed to be looking at, my lady?

"My face probably can't tell you much, but my eyes should, my lord."

Wyman stood up and got closer to her. Suddenly, he jumped a little backwards. "Seven hells, those eyes look like Tully eyes! I thought you said you were a Stone, my lady?"

"I had to colour my hair so that nobody could recognize me and I played lord Baelish's baseborn daughter to avoid suspicions. But I could never forget who I truly am. Lord Manderly," Alayne said confidently, "my name is not really Alayne Stone. My real name is Sansa Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully."

**Hi! Thanks for reading. Any reviews are appreciated.**

**New chapter next week, nothing much to say here.**


	4. Chapter 4

Hearing her say the words, Wyman stood up and looked at her in disbelief for a moment. Then he realized it is true. He knelt right there and then, took Sansa's hand in his and kissed it. His mouth widened in an ear to ear smile.

"My lady of Winterfell! You are alive!"

Sansa was beaming with joy at his happiness. "I am. And I have a request for you."

"Anything you say, my lady! Manderly swords are your swords! Nothing will ever make me revoke my loyalty to house Stark!"

"First of all, please keep your voice down."

"Yes, my lady. Of course. I apologize." He slowly stood up and sat himself down. "Please, my dear lady, sit down and tell me what it is you request of a humble servant."

She gladly obeyed his request. "Are there any other houses in the North that would still support a Stark if one showed up?"

"Let me think for a moment." He sat back and thought for a moment, stroking his moustache. "Of course. Umbers. Old Whoresbane can't wait to put his sword in all the Frey hearts. The only reason he is supporting Bolton is because Greatjon is still held captive at the Twins. As for me, I lost my younger son, Wendel, at the Twins. The Freys murdered him, I don't believe a word of their fables. Finally, they brought his bones back to me so I can bury him properly. No longer will I play a nice guy to the Freys. I hope they all choke on their food."

"So it's you and the Umbers. Anyone else that might be of help?"

"Of course. Mormonts of Bear Isle, though it's not exactly unambiguous as to who rules over the island, young Lyanna or Alysanne the She-Bear. But they command a lot of good men, those bears sure don't go down easily. They are also loyal to a fault. I'm not sure about lady Dustin of Barrowton. She had a few of her own men killed at the Twins, but she only sent a minimum amount of soldiers to help the Young Wolf. I suppose the Hornwoods don't like the Boltons because of that whole lady Hornwood thing, but I don't know how willing they'd be to follow a Stark again. There might be a handful of other smaller families as well. Oh, and the Reeds. They are most definitely loyal Stark followers."

"And what about the Karstarks?"

"The Karstarks, well, they are difficult to predict. They are some kind of distant relatives to Starks, right?" When Sansa nodded, he continued. "But I have received a raven from Wendel that told me that the Young Wolf beheaded old lord Rickard over killing some hostages. So there's that."

This hurt Sansa, she couldn't deny it. She let it show.

"My lady, I'm sorry for that. But you know I'd never lie to you."

Sansa nodded. "Yes. Thank you for that, Lord Wyman."

"You know, there was some smuggler here not a week ago. Does the name Davos Seaworth mean anything to any of you?"

Petyr lifted his head. "It sounds very familiar, yes."

"He is in the service of Stannis Baratheon. I have heard rumours about your youngest brother, my lady. He might still be alive. But the problem is, if he really is alive, he's on Skagos."

Colour escaped Sansa's cheeks. "Skagos? How in seven hells could Rickon get to Skagos?"

"I have no idea, my lady. The thing is, I sent this Davos to go search for him there. The plan was that after he brings young Rickon to me, I'd declare him the true lord of Winterfell and slay all those lying Freys and Boltons and reinstate Starks as the Wardens of the North. But I can't rely on a rumour. But with you, my lady, I wouldn't be relying on mere rumours. I can see you before me. I can proclaim you the Lady of Winterfell."

"Well, as long as Rickon is still alive, I can't be that. I suppose I could be his regent, but…"

"Yes, my lady, _if_ he is alive. I don't want to sound pessimistic here, but this last autumn has not been nice to the Starks, I think you can agree with me, my lady."

Sansa just nodded. He was right, she knew.

"But you are definitely alive. This is exactly what I needed. In a few weeks we will be going to Winterfell to a wedding."

"What wedding? Why Winterfell?"

"Lord Bolton has legitimized his bastard Ramsay and is to marry him to Arya Stark."

"Arya is alive?" Sansa could not believe her ears.

"I don't know if she's alive. But I know for certain the girl the bastard will marry is not your sister, my lady. I haven't seen her yet, but I'm certain."

"What makes you so sure about this?"

"My lady, do you really think your sister would let herself be married to a bastard son of a man who betrayed her family?"

Sansa hesitated. "While that's true, it still might be her. Only gods know what the Lannisters did to her."

"Well, that doesn't really matter now. All the lords in the North are invited there. And I plan on making it a wedding feast to remember. You can come with me, my lady." Petyr wanted to jump in. "Don't worry, Baelish, I won't let her make a step unguarded. On the other hand, you probably cannot come. People know you; they know you're not Northern. You will cause suspicion if you go."

"I agree on that, my lord, but I believe I should have a say in this as well. Lady Stark is in my care, after all."

"She is? Oh, I forgot. I'm used to the Starks being independent. My apologies, Baelish."

"As you rightfully should be, my lord. I'll just let you know that it doesn't do me any good going with you to a Northern feast. No offence meant, of course. It's just that I'm Lord Paramount of the Riverlands."

"Of course. We cannot forget that."

"All I wish is for Sansa to have protection at all times. I don't wish her to sleep without guards, I don't wish her to relieve herself without guards."

"She is much too precious for my cause to not guard her day and night, Baelish."

"Then I give you my leave, but hold you responsible for whatever may happen to her, my lord. And if something should happen to her, be aware that you might be the last Manderly ruling over White Harbour."

"Baelish, are you threatening me in my castle?" Wyman stood up, furious at his morals being questioned.

"Not threatening, my lord. Merely warning."

"I don't like being warned. You're far away from home, Baelish. Do you think anyone would know if I told one of my guards to stab you in the back?"

"Nobody would know, but you are way too honest to do something as dishonourable. Forgive me this episode. I am merely concerned for young Lady Stark's well being.

"Everyone knows that you were mad for her mother, yes."

"I'm sure of that, my lord. But Sansa here is not her mother. She is her mother's daughter, though."

Sansa blushed like she was commanded to. Wyman sat back down, calmed.

"Anyway, my lord, you need not worry. Lady Sansa will have two guards by her side at all times."

Petyr stroked his pointy beard, satisfied. "When is the feast?"

"In a few weeks, like I said. We'll be leaving in a week or so. It's quite a long ride to Winterfell from here."

"Good. That gives us some time to prepare. I do have one final question, though."

"Of course, ask away, Lord Baelish."

"Your son, Wylis. The last time I heard he was in Lannister captivity."

Wyman waved his hand. "Now that the Young Wolf is dead, they must have realised that he holds no value to them, so they let him go. He arrived home perhaps a week ago."

Sansa spoke again. This time eager to find out Wyman's intentions. "Lord Manderly, may I ask what exactly are you planning to do in Winterfell?"

"No doubt you have seen those three Freys in the court, cursed they be. They are old Walder's sons, grandsons or whatever. He's got so many it's easy to lose count. Let's just say they are in for quite a surprise. And after that, the Boltons should receive a surprise or two as well. A small reminder that the North remembers."

Sansa nodded with a grin on her face. This man is quite something. He may not look like much, but he is nothing if not loyal. And powerful, she reminded herself. Manderly and Umber forces might even be enough to overthrow Boltons. It all depends on the other houses that he named. But for the first time in months she felt safe and sure about herself.

They rose from the table and bowed courteously. "Lord Manderly, please don't forget that I am Alayne Stone for the time being."

"Of course. I'll write to Umbers, Mormonts and Reeds. While I trust them, I won't explain everything to them in letter. I never really trusted ravens, to be frank with you, my lady – I mean Lady Stone. But I'll make sure to explain the plan to them when we arrive in Winterfell."

"Perhaps it would be even better if you don't send any ravens and tell them everything when you get to Winterfell," Petyr remarked. "Like you said, ravens can be intercepted and even the slightest of details may foil your plans. That's not something you can afford, surely."

"You are right, Baelish. I'll do that. Now, let's go down to the court to shoo away all the lazy people that are still there."

Sansa couldn't wait for them to depart for Winterfell. She didn't know how Robyn would react, but she'd leave him for Petyr to explain the plans. She couldn't be bothered. Her mind was set on one thing and that thing most certainly wasn't Robyn. She would see Winterfell again, gods be merciful. It has been so long since she last saw it in person. The mere thought of it filled her with joy that wasn't stained even by the fact that Boltons are occupying it.

The time was passing way too slowly for Sansa. Four days after she and Petyr talked to lord Wyman, Petyr and Robyn departed for the Vale. Robyn seemed distressed that Alayne wasn't going, but she made him understand that she wanted to see some more of 'the magical North' as she told to him. When she told him that, Robyn would say "But why can't I come with you to see more of the world myself?"

"Oh, Sweetrobin, you must go back to the Vale. The Vale needs its Lord Paramount. I'm just a bastard daughter of your Uncle Baelish and it's a rare privilege when a high lord like lord Manderly asks someone like me to travel with him for a while. But I will be back, I promise," she would say to him while caressing his cheek. Eventually he would come to terms with it and give up.

As he ascended the carriage, Sansa stepped towards the carriage to say goodbye. "My lord, I wish you safe travel back."

"And I wish you a safe travel as well, Alayne," he said. Then he jumped back down from the carriage and hugged her. Sansa was startled for a moment, but then she heard him sob quietly in her neck. She returned the embrace and said "My lord, I will be back, don't worry."

Finally he broke the hug and entered the carriage. Petyr followed suit after exchanging two kisses on the cheek with Sansa.

"My dear daughter, I hope you will see many pretty things. I hear the North is beautiful just before the winter."

"I will, Father. I wish you a safe and swift travel."

Petyr whispered in her ear. "Let them know who you are when the need arises. Good luck."

As he ascended the carriage, Sansa looked at him and nodded slightly. A single tear ran down her cheek. Whether it was a tear of joy or sadness, she couldn't tell. Petyr noticed the tear and spread his lips in a comforting smile. She waved as the carriage started moving further and further away and watched it until it was but a speck far away in the distance. Lord Manderly stood behind her and watched the whole affair.

"So young lord Arryn doesn't know your real identity?"

"Gods, no. And it's a good thing, my lord."

"I agree. Well, Lady Stone, let's go. We have to prepare for the long journey north."

He offered her a hand which she gladly accepted. They walked towards Merman's court where they passed the three Frey men. Lord Manderly nodded swiftly to three of his knights that were in the vicinity, just quickly enough that Sansa noticed. She smiled, but inside she was jumping with joy. The first part of the plan has been put into motion.

**We're finally on the way to Winterfell. Sansa will have to rediscover a lot of things back home.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

The trip to Winterfell was really taking a long time. They were on the road for almost two weeks and they have just managed to join with the Kingsroad at Cerwyn. The freshly fallen snow made the trip much harder and that, paired with the vastness and infiniteness of the North, resulted in a voyage that sometimes didn't advance more than a few leagues a day. That Lord Manderly took with him almost all bannermen also didn't help the matter much. But Sansa didn't mind it. She was comfortable in her carriage with lord Manderly, gazing at the wide outside with joy. When they finally reached Cerwyn, she was beside herself with excitement. That didn't escape lord Manderly's eyes.

"My lady, we're not far anymore."

"I know, lord Manderly. I will finally see Winterfell again, I'm so excited!"

"That's quite natural. It is your home, after all. And I think I'm not wrong in thinking you never really wanted to leave, am I?"

"Oh, I wanted to leave. I was a naïve girl back then, in love and betrothed to a crazy man who enjoyed in seeing others get hurt. But I didn't know that back then. I was just glad I could go south, to see the majesty of King's Landing in its unspoiled glory. But my joy turned to ashes not long after."

"Excuse my curiosity, but what happened with your family down there? I mean before lord Eddard's death, I know what happened afterwards."

Sansa looked down in her lap and it pained her to remember those things. "You can't imagine the horror when I arrived and thought I was safe. If Joffrey didn't torture me in one way or another, I nearly got raped. If I wasn't under a threat of rape, Joffrey ordered some of his Kingsguard to beat me up. They made me annul the betrothal, marry the imp and even then I wasn't safe from Joffrey's torment. On my wedding feast he threatened me to come to my chambers and rape me while two of the Kingsguard would hold me down. Luckily he didn't do it. And the imp, however ugly and rude he was, was the only one who treated me like a human. I entered his bed a maiden, but upon realizing I didn't want him, I left his bed a maiden as well. And now he's probably dead, accused of a crime he didn't commit." She started silently crying.

Lord Manderly sat there with a look of disbelief on his face. "This imp husband of yours, is he a Lannister?"

Sansa nodded, then spoke through tears. "He is. Queen Cersei is his sister, but she hates him even more than she hated me. When Joffrey was poisoned at his wedding, her first words were 'Get the imp, he did it!' Luckily I managed to escape before she could frame me as well. But Tyrion is innocent. He didn't kill Joffrey, though he wanted that, I could see it in his face. But he took the blow for it nonetheless. Undoubtedly, he must be lying somewhere without his head now while Cersei rules the kingdoms."

"Did you like the imp?"

"No, I didn't. But it seems so unfair to me that he took the blow for something he didn't do while being the most honourable of the whole family. He was the only person in King's Landing that listened to what I said, that respected me somewhat. As frightened as I was of him at the beginning, he was the most human in the whole town, other than old lady Tyrell and her granddaughter. They even offered me to help me escape to the Reach with them, but then I was forced into this marriage."

Lord Manderly nodded. "I see. Well, my lady, I promise you my sword and oath of fealty. Doubtless the Umbers, Mormonts and others will do that too."

"I am most grateful for that, lord Manderly. But I couldn't help but notice something. I never saw the Frey banner leaving with us."

Lord Wyman chuckled. "Let's just say they had an… Accident. Yes, that's what happened to them. If the Freys can have their fables, I can have mine too and they can bugger off if they don't like them, pardon my language, my lady. They were the first part of _my_ revenge plan, my lady. But I promise, you'll get your revenge against the Freys and Boltons alike."

Satisfied by the answer, Sansa smiled and nodded. She just couldn't wait to see what lord Wyman had in store. She looked out again and she saw the thick clouds over their heads. There won't be rain in the North for a long time now, she thought. Winter is coming. The family words echoed in her head and this time they brought her joy.

It was another two days before they finally reached Winterfell. Upon arrival, Sansa saw that Manderlys weren't the only family that brought most of their forces. She saw a large amount of tents in the court with all possible banners she ever read about. Lord Bolton truly wanted to make this faux wedding a thing to remember. Sansa could just hope the world would remember it for reasons different than what lord Bolton was expecting.

Roose Bolton himself greeted them when they descended the carriage.

"My lord, what an honour to be greeted by the Lord Paramount himself." Wyman bowed as low as he could and Sansa followed suit with a perfect lady curtsy, albeit she had to battle some angry thoughts while doing it. She could only hope they wouldn't show on her face.

"Lord Manderly, always a pleasure to see you here. Might I ask who this beautiful young lady is?" His gaze turned on Sansa. Lord Wyman quickly regained his wits.

"She is my ward, Alayne Stone."

"Stone? How does a Northern lord receive a ward from the Vale? And a bastard at that?"

"She's from the Sisters, my lord. Her father couldn't be bothered to go to the Eyrie and said to me that it's easier to get upstream than to that unimaginably complex fortress. Can't really blame him for that, he has a point. That fort is simply too difficult to get to. And since she's a baseborn daughter of the Sunderlands, he wanted a powerful family to foster his child."

"I see," lord Roose said with a cold voice that Sansa didn't like one bit. "Well, always a pleasure to meet such a lovely lady, even if baseborn," he continued and took Sansa's hand in his own. He kissed her fingertips afterwards. Sansa could barely keep back the look of disgust as he did that. She would have to wash her hands for days now and they still wouldn't be clean, she thought to herself, playing the part of a lady very well with not a glimpse of her thoughts resonating on her face.

When Roose let her hand go, Sansa noticed a man coming closer to them. He was similar to those three Freys.

"Lord Manderly, pleasure to see you and all that stuff. Let's get to the point. Where are Rhaegar, Symond and Jared?"

Wyman stood there, blinking with surprise. Sansa had to admit he was a very good actor. "They haven't arrived yet? They rode ahead of us two days ago, saying they can't wait to be reunited with their family."

"Gods know they aren't here yet, why else would I ask you where they were?"

"Lord Hosteen, I told you where they are supposed to be. If they hadn't arrived yet, then they must have suffered some kind of accident. They could have also strayed from the Kingsroad as we haven't seen anybody coming up here. I do have one question for you, however: Aren't you Freys of the Riverlands? What in seven hells are you doing so far away from your bloody fort?"

Lord Hosteen was steaming. "Do you think I like it here? I got here to reunite with my blood that was to come with you."

Lord Wyman laughed heartily. "You expect me to believe that? I counted your tents, Hosteen. You have at least a thousand men here. That's _way_ more than just an escort, surely?"

The rage building inside Hosteen was immense. Even Sansa could see that he hates Wyman and would like nothing more than to strike the fat man down. Luckily for her, he was too smart to do that. The conversation between the two men would undoubtedly continue for a long time, but Roose stepped in. "There, there, my lords. This is neither the time nor the place to settle your petty differences. When the feast is over, you have my leave to settle this in whichever way you deem just."

There was just something about the man that made Sansa hate him before she even heard him speak. Was it the icy cold voice or his icy eyes, she couldn't tell. And when will I be able to settle my differences with you? I'd watch my back if I were you, she thought. She excused herself to Wyman and went walking around the court. She had to see some places before the night fell.

As lord Wyman said, she would not make a step without two guards close to her, so she knew she was safe. Nobody really paid attention to her anyway. She was dressed in an inconspicuous white dress and with her hair dyed black and falling freely on her shoulders and back, she looked more like a snow fairy than a highborn girl. Beside her, two Manderly guards walked in their white armours.

As the night loomed large, they turned back towards the Great Hall, where they would be served supper. Sansa expected a small feast since the wedding was not to occur until several days later. But an unexpectedly lavish feast awaited her when she entered the Hall. She quickly scanned the room for Wyman and hurried to him, the guards right behind her.

"Lord Manderly, what's this? I thought the wedding is not yet to happen."

"And it isn't happening, Lady Stone. Lord Bolton just thinks he should not have small feasts. Though you don't have to worry, Winterfell's storage is quite full and every lord brought quite a lot with them. So, eat and be merry, child! This might be the last great feast in quite a while. As the Starks used to say, winter is coming. And judging by this autumn, it's going to be a long one."

Sansa obeyed him, but she couldn't make herself eat much. Roose stood up. "Dear bannermen of the North! I have received words from Deepwood Motte. Stannis Baratheon, who claims to be the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, has sacked Depwood Motte and sent the ironborn out of the North with the help of the Mountain Clans of the North and some renegade houses that refused to come to this feast. He is rumoured to start moving this way. It appears we are going to have a large battle not too long from now. I must express my gratitude, since most of you brought quite a lot of your own bannermen. Stannis commands an army of about ten thousand. Here, we must have at least that number and we have an advantage, so his cause is not likely to succeed. But I need every able man to fight, should it really come to it." The hall started talking loudly. Sansa noticed that Wyman was surprised, but thrilled at the same time.

Soon after she excused herself and went to sleep. Lord Wyman agreed with her. "I shall go to sleep early today as well, Lady Stone. Though you might want to come visit my tent just before you go to sleep, my lady."

Sansa followed him to his tent and upon entering she saw a familiar figure tied to the post in the middle of the tent with his mouth tied so he couldn't speak. There were three men in the tent other than him and in the middle of the tent there was a table full of weird instruments that she hadn't seen before.

"My lady, while all Freys look the same to me, I know for a fact that this is Walton, third son of Stevron, who is himself the heir to the Twins. He is all yours."

Sansa nodded and bowed to lord Wyman. Then she stepped towards the middle of the tent. "Do you have any idea who I am?" Walton shook his head with fear. "Good. You don't need to. Not yet."

**Another week, another chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

The screams were painful to endure. Luckily the feast in the Great Hall has just started so nobody was outside. But if there wouldn't be a feast, she was sure this could not be done. The screaming of Walton Frey was high-pitched and annoying, but Sansa knew it was worth it. Let him know just a little bit how it feels. The man was a few teeth poorer right now, but he wasn't really of much use. All Sansa could find out was that Roose Bolton was the one to finish her brother while saying 'Jaime Lannister sends his regards'. Upon hearing this, she was lost for a moment. The three Manderly soldiers in the tent answered this by breaking a few of the man's ribs. She tried so hard to regain her composure and find out something more, but after a while she gave in.

"Finish this quickly, please. I can't stand his screams a second longer."

After saying this, she turned on her heels and left the tent, Frey still screaming for a while. Then she heard a sound of metal puncturing the skin and the screams stopped soon after.

Jaime Lannister sends his regards. Her eyes watered when she remembered the words. Lord Wyman was sitting outside by a fire. He noticed her mild distress. "My lady, what is wrong? Have you found something out?"

"Lord Wyman, I want to be in the room when Roose Bolton gets it. I want to make him plead for mercy of death before I grant it to him."

The coldness in her voice shocked lord Wyman, but he quickly recomposed himself. "It shall be done, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord. I will excuse myself now. What will you do with the body?"

"I guess I'll have my men plant it somewhere around the Frey tents. Let them find him."

Sansa nodded. "Sweet dreams, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord."

She went to her tent, undressed and then covered herself. She knew it would take her a while to fall asleep, so she didn't even bother to close her eyes. She stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking of what her return to Winterfell brought her. Stannis has won the mountain clans for his cause, undoubtedly due to some promise about her father. She knew the clans would not bend a knee to anyone but a Northern lord unless he had a very persuasive argument to do so. The new Warden of the North, her host, was the one to kill off Robb. She didn't know why this had surprised her as much as it did, but she couldn't help it. She also remembered something about a Bolton uprising that Maester Luwin told her about once. Their own cadet branch, the Greystarks, have joined the Bolton banners. She also remembered that Maester told her that the Greystarks went extinct because of it. She wondered why the king didn't do the same to the Boltons. It would have saved her a lot of grief. She knew this was as good a time as any to wipe the Bolton family off the face of Westeros. All that was remaining of the family was Roose and his newly legitimized son Ramsay. To think of it, she hasn't seen Ramsay at the feast and neither the girl who posed as Arya. She still didn't want to believe it was really Arya, but she also felt some hope for a possible reunion.

I will not cry again, she said to herself. Now the age of my happiness is starting and nobody can make me cry. Not anymore. I have cried the last of my tears today.

Soon after making that promise to herself, her eyelids pushed together, seemingly on their own and she lost her consciousness mere minutes later.

She was awakened by some angry voices outside her tent. It was morning. She couldn't quite make out the words or who was saying them, but she somehow knew it was about that Frey they killed last night. She quickly dressed herself and stepped out. She saw Hosteen Frey screaming his lungs off, calling for someone's head. His words or rather screams were directed at Wyman Manderly.

"Wyman, I'm onto you! First the three Freys that were in your care don't return, now another one of my kin is dead! I'm not stupid!

Wyma was calm. "Lord Hosteen, can you tell me how am I supposed to be involved in this mess? Do I look like a bloodthirsty man to you?"

"You look like a fucking walrus, is what you look like to me! You disappeared from the feast a bit too fast yesterday! You never leave the hall until all the food is gone, even I know that and I'm not a Northerner!"

"I was merely escorting my ward to sleep. The journey was very tiring for her. Then, after we got to her tent, I started to become rather sleepy, so I went to sleep myself as well. By the way, can you please explain to me how am I supposed to be involved in the death of your kin? You said yourself that you found him at your tents. My tents are here, very close to the fort gate. Yours are on the other side of the court. Do I look like a man that would walk that distance, especially in the middle of the night? If the answer is yes, then you clearly don't know me as much as you think, Lord Hosteen."

"I don't like you and you best remember that! If I find out it really was you who killed my kin, I'll have your head on a spike at the Twins!"

"A good thing I wasn't involved, then. Though I do believe the same treatment would be exerted no matter who did this horrible thing? Even if it was our noble Lord Paramount of the North, Roose Bolton himself?"

"Manderly, are you trying to insinuate something?"

"On the contrary, I just want to know if you would have the same punishment inflicted on anyone that isn't me. I guess it's obvious that you hate me and that you would run to kiss our Lord Paramount's arse if he killed your kin and thank him for it."

Hosteen Frey's face has turned a shade of red so intense Sansa thought his face was about to blow up. Somehow it didn't and all that came out of his mouth was a growl of fury and then he marched away with a step so quick the guards that came with him couldn't keep the pace with him and nearly ran after him. Sansa chuckled at the sight. That's when lord Manderly noticed her.

"Lady Stone! I apologize for this ruckus. Lord Frey and his hatred for me are to blame." He got closer and closer to her. Sansa saw he has something important to tell her, so she feigned an invitation inside her tent. When they entered the tent, lord Wyman sat on the bed whereas Sansa stood there.

"I have some news, my lady," he whispered. "Some better than others."

Sansa paled. "What are the bad news?"

Wyman took his time. What was wrong? Were they betrayed? No, that couldn't be. They wouldn't be alive if that happened. What was it?

"Lord Wyman, what are the bad news?"

He was still slow about it. "Well, my lady, you see... The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch has died."

"They'll just get another one. It has happened before."

"It did, my lady, but... The Lord Commander was Jon Snow."

Jon. Her brother that isn't her brother. The Bastard of the North. Dead. Just like that.

"How?" was all she managed.

"Stabbed. Many times. Don't ask me why, I don't know that."

Another of her kin, dead. Sansa started wondering if any Stark would survive this winter. But she wouldn't cry. She promised that to herself.

"That's unfortunate. But he knew what he was getting into. May the gods rest his soul. What about the good news?"

Wyman was slightly startled at her apparent ease, but he quickly regained his wit.

"Ah, the good news, yes. The Reeds are here and so are the Umbers, but Mormonts are supposedly with Stannis. Lady Dustin is here as well, but I'm not sure which side she is on. We, the Reeds and the Umbers have quite a force with us here and it should be enough if we have the element of surprise on our side. Then there's also hope that Stannis doesn't kill a lot of our men but strikes the Bolton forces instead. Lord Umber has a brother who commands some of their troops, but he is with Stannis as well. If I only count my men, Whoresbane's and Howland's as ours, the Bolton men outnumber us about three to one, which is not a bad ratio. Leaves something to be desired, for sure, but it's better than I hoped, to be quite honest with you, my lady."

Sansa nodded. "Are we in any danger that Lord Frey manages to prove you had a hand in the murder?"

"Hardly, my lady. He's furious, that's true, but his brain is smaller than a walnut. He wouldn't know the murderer if he'd seen him with his own eyes."

Sansa felt reassured by those words and she managed a weak smile.

"But now, let's go and eat something, my lady, don't you say?"

Lord Wyman arose with all the difficulty you'd expect a man of his stature would have with rising from a bed that was very low.

"After breaking our fast, I have a meeting arranged with Whoresbane and Howland, my lady. You should come too. I have to show them I really have you. We are to meet in my tent to discuss further action, so stay close to me, my lady."

Sansa slightly nodded and followed lord Wyman to the Great Hall. She was quite hungry so she had bacon, black bread, two eggs and a lemoncake to top it. Lord Wyman was japing with people who were surrounding him and Sansa thought his deep laugh must surely be heard outside the hall. The loud laugh made her know she has nothing to be worried about and she was glad for it. Hopefully it sent a message to others in the hall not to mess with him. He does look weak, she thought, but then again, anyone carrying around this much weight looks quite weak, but that doesn't necessarily make it so. His bannermen were some of the most loyal knights not only in the North, but in the Seven Kingdoms, and their loyalty was matched only by their power and influence. She was glad lord Wyman remained loyal to House Stark. Having such a man support House Bolton would be a serious problem.

Lord Hother approached their table slowly. Sansa heard many stories about the man, but she didn't expect a man that old to be that huge. The sheer age of lord Hother made Sansa believe he should be much smaller. Alas, he was of the size with Greatjon, a true giant among men. His face looked even harder than what the stories told, with deep ridges in his cheeks. His stone cold eyes were studying everyone around him. Sansa couldn't believe he was once meant to be a Maester. People were scared of asking him why they call him Whoresbane; now that she had finally seen him, Sansa knew why. When he reached lord Wyman, he whispered a few words in his ear and Sansa couldn't hear a thing. He turned around and never so much as looked at her. Lord Wyman stood up and offered Sansa his hand.

"Lady Stone, will you be as kind as to escort me to my tent? I have an important meeting."

"Of course, my lord," she replied and stood up at once, taking the offered hand in hers and they slowly left the hall.

**Thanks for reading! Until next week, then.**


	7. Chapter 7

The journey to lord Wyman's tent didn't take long. When they entered, she saw a table in place of the post that was there the night before. The table had four chairs and two were already taken; Sansa immediately noticed the huge Hother Umber and next to him was a much smaller man that looked somehow like a child next to lord Hother. Sansa knew that this man was Howland Reed. All crannogmen were small, she knew; but few in Westeros were as skilled with bow or spear. Lord Howland spoke first. His voice was low, but it sounded like a song to Sansa, she sensed softness in that voice.

"Lord Wyman, always nice to see you. And the lady is your ward, I presume? A very pretty lady, yes. And of noble blood, it can be easily seen. It must be my old eyes deceiving me since I see some Tully in her, since you say she is a baseborn daughter of lord Sunderland of the Sisters, am I correct?"

Sansa tried to hide the shock on her face. He knows who I am, she said to herself. Lord Wyman must have noticed that too.

"It might indeed be your old eyes, my friend. I agree with your observation of her beauty, though. Not many women can boast such beauty. Lady Alayne, this is Lord Howland Reed of the Neck. Next to him is Lord Hother Umber of Last Hearth, every bit as big as the giant on their crest and a great man."

Lord Howland offered Sansa his hand and she somewhat reluctantly put hers on it. Lord Howland looked her in the eyes all along as he kissed the back of her hand. His eyes were telling Sansa he knows who she really is, or at least that's what Sansa saw in them. She felt uncomfortable until he spoke. "Pleasure to meet such a beautiful young lady such as yourself, Lady Stone." She gave a curtsy after Lord Howland let her go.

When Lord Hother came to her, she bent her neck so that her head was almost pointing directly upwards and she could still barely see over his long beard. He kneeled on one knee with unexpected ease and kissed her hand just like Lord Howland before him. When he finally spoke, Sansa was startled. Although he tried to keep his voice down, it sounded almost like thunder to her. "Lady Stone," he roared. "Lord Howland has told you what I wanted to say, so let me just say that you are indeed very beautiful. Blessed by the gods is the man that will marry you."

She managed a sheepish smile and a quiet 'Thanks' before she gave a curtsy again. Then she sat down. Lord Wyman was already seated.

Lord Howland spoke again. "Lord Wyman, you have told me in your letter that it is of utmost importance that I come here. I haven't left the Neck in a long time, so there is no time to lose if you really have something important to say."

Lord Wyman spoke with his deep voice. "Yes, my dear friend, I recall. It's been how much? Fifteen years?"

"Seventeen. Since me and dearly departed Lord Eddard Stark survived the Tower of Joy. After all the horror I've seen there, I had no intention of leaving Greywater Watch ever again in my life. After seeing Eddard's sister all bloody on that bed with Eddard talking to her like she was still alive – I think even you understand why the outside world wouldn't seem very appealing to me."

"I have never learned what happened down there since neither you nor Lord Eddard ever talked about it, but I think I understand. But I assure you, your coming up here is not unwarranted. I have a plan to reinstate Starks in Winterfell."

Lord Umber spoke up. "And how do you plan on doing this, dear friend? All Lord Eddard's children are either dead or in captivity. Nobody has seen his daughters in two years, let alone his sons other than the Young Wolf and he is dead. The young boys were burned here in Winterfell when that turncloak attacked," saying that, he spat on the ground. "Nobody has seen the younger girl since Lord Eddard was executed by that sackless shit in King's Landing," he spat again. Sansa chuckled quietly at his description of Joffrey. She thought it was a pretty good description. "And the older daughter? She was held captive by the Lannisters in that pisspot of a city the last I heard about her."

Sansa could feel Lord Howland's gaze on her and she had to try very hard not to show any emotions. Lord Umber continued his monologue. "Even Eddard's bastard son is unreachable since he has sworn the oath of the Night's Watch. And he is also a bastard, which makes it even more complicated."

"Lord Eddard's baseborn son has died, Hother, I'm sorry to say."

"Well, that makes it even worse, then. Don't get me wrong, Lord Wyman, I'm every bit as loyal to Starks as you are, but how do you plan on reinstating them when there aren't any left? And also," he quickly glanced at Sansa, "why does your ward need to hear any of this? She's not a part of the conspiracy since she's from the Vale, and she's also a woman! They don't need to listen to us men banter about wars and killing. Ladies shouldn't listen to such stories, they have much to worry as is."

Lord Wyman kept his calm masterfully. Sansa started admiring his calm these last few days. "I am glad you brought lady Stone's presence up, dear Hother. She is the key to this. Remember what Lord Reed said as soon as we entered? That he sees some Tully in her? His old eyes aren't deceiving him yet," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "she is half Tully. Now, would you care to guess what the other half of her is?"

Lord Hother's eyes widened in disbelief. He whispered as well, but even his whisper was loud, Sansa thought. "You're telling me you somehow managed to rescue one of lord Eddard's daughters?"

Lord Wyman continued in a whisper. "I'm telling you this lady right here is Sansa Stark posing as a bastard of the Vale to avoid suspicion. Which means you're not to tell anyone about it."

"I'm not stupid, Wyman. I wasn't meaning to tell anyone. Do you think I got this old by not keeping secrets for myself?" After saying that, Hother rose from his chair, pulled out his sword and laid it on the table. Then he whispered. "Lady Stark, my sword and a thousand others that I brought with me are yours." Then he knelt down.

Howland stood up. "Lady Stark, you must forgive me. I never forget a face and yours is so much like your lady mother, I knew as soon as you entered the tent that it must be you. I am sorry if I have frightened you with my speech. You have my utmost loyalty. Your lord father always said that I saved his life at the Tower of Joy, but in truth, he saved mine a couple times as well that day. For that I will always be in debt to your family."

Sansa felt her eyes watering, but she reminded herself how she promised she wouldn't cry. She battled back the tears. "Thank you" was all she managed to say. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep her tears at bay if she said another word, so she shut up.

"My lady," Howland continued, "not too long ago Lord Eddard's bones passed through the Neck. With all the commotion going on here I couldn't risk much, so I stored his bones in my castle. I plan on giving them to you when we successfully put you on your rightful seat. You do understand why I couldn't risk the bones coming here before that, or even worse, fail to come here, do you not?"

He said 'when', not 'if'. This was the confidence Sansa needed to complete her endeavour. But it was too much for Sansa. She nodded and said a weak 'Thank you' before she broke down in silent tears. She broke her promise not even a day after she made it, but she didn't care. Howland went towards her to try to give her comfort. When he hugged her over the shoulder, Sansa pushed herself towards him and embraced him out of thankfulness. She cried into his shoulder for a while. Nobody else made any sounds in that period of time.

When she finally calmed down and let go of Howland, Sansa stood up straight. "Lord Howland, Lord Umber, I am most grateful for your help. When we succeed in our plans, I shall see you are properly rewarded. But at the moment I'm just humbled at your willingness to follow me despite barely knowing who I am."

Hother spoke up. "My lady, I've lost a great nephew at the Red Wedding. I'm not sure if my nephew is still alive or not, but even if he is, he is rotting in a cell at the Twins. It is said that it took eight men to overcome him and he was drunk out of his mind. I have only sworn fealty to Bolton to keep my hopes of getting my nephew back one day. My brother is out there, marching on Winterfell with Stannis Baratheon. But if we are of about equal strength in numbers, they hold no hope to sack Winterfell and overthrow the Boltons. Someone must help them, or even better, do it before Stannis can. That way, we would be able to name you our Queen."

Sansa widened her eyes. She certainly wasn't expecting that. "Me, the… Queen?"

"Aye. I loathe the prospect of bending my knee to some shit down in King's Landing that I will never see in my life. I will bend my knee to you and your children, when you have them, and nobody else."

Howland joined in. "I agree. The time of the Seven Kingdoms is past. Targaryens are practically extinct and they are the only reason there are united Seven Kingdoms. Robert Baratheon was a noble man; his descendants, alas, aren't. The children who sit the Iron Throne aren't even his, but a product of an incestuous relationship. I've had enough inbred kings in my life with the Targaryens. Not any longer. I have but one Queen, and she is standing before me. Even if the last time someone declared himself the King in the North ended badly, I have all confidence that this time it will be different."

Sansa was overjoyed at these words. Yes, an independent North, to honour Robb, who failed in this endeavour. To honour King Torrhen, who was smart enough to bend the knee to the Dragon King rather than put up a fight and burn his men. To honour her father, who lived as honourably as one could; who was killed because of her. I'm so sorry, Father, she thought. I was stupid and didn't know that the paradise isn't located down south. I'm sorry you died knowing that it was me who sealed your fate. I'm sorry you had to die. I was tricked into believing you would be allowed to walk away. I was tricked into believing Joffrey was human. I will make you a statue worthy of you and it will stand atop the South Gate, where everyone will be able to see your majesty. To honour Bran and Rickon, who were helpless against the traitorous bastard they thought of as their brother. To honour Arya, who is probably lying in a dirty ditch somewhere outside King's Landing. To honour her mother, who died with her son in that hall that Sansa now vowed to destroy. And lastly, to honour Jon. He might not have been on good terms with her, but he was still her brother.

Lord Manderly finally joined in. "My lady, I have told you once before. The North remembers. Let's make sure the Boltons remember that as well."

The look in Sansa's eyes was stern. "Yes. Let's make them remember."

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome.**


	8. Chapter 8

A few days went past and Sansa was mostly enjoying the rediscovering of Winterfell. So much has changed since she was last here before. The weirwood looked even more majestic than it had at her departure, the whole godswood had some new charm about it. She was walking around it and noticed the spot where her father would always wash his blade after an execution. The same blade he was beheaded with. Gods know where that sword is now, she thought. One thing was certain for her. She would never see it again. That was good, in a way; she doubted she'd be good at executing people if she were to really become Queen in the North. A man who passes the sentence should wield the blade, her father used to say. What about when a woman passes the sentence, Father? What happens then? Does that woman have to wield the blade as if she was a man as well? Someone like her would hardly be able to lift such a blade, let alone kill a person with it. But she always heard how Valyrian swords were supposed to be extremely light, even a huge greatsword like Ice was. And they were said to be extremely sharp so that even after a thousand years or more the blade would still not be dull. She could wield that kind of a sword, she thought. But would she be able to bear the sight of an execution, especially after witnessing her father's?

Screaming snapped her out of her thoughts. Her guards bared their swords. She had learned to recognize the scream; it was Hosteen Frey again. Every morning a new soldier was found dead. Frey would always try to frame Wyman for it, but could never find enough evidence. However this day his fury was worse than usual. Was the victim another Frey? She told the guards to put the swords away and then walked out of the godswood and towards the court. Surely enough, the victim was Little Walder Frey. He was frozen and bloody. It really was a disgusting image, but Sansa had seen enough horror to not flinch at the sight of his body. Hosteen was, of course, livid with hate. And Wyman was on the receiving end of Hosteen's insults, unsurprisingly. Wyman didn't say anything until Hosteen stopped yelling, which took almost a whole hour's turn. Then he simply said "Whoever killed him probably blessed him. He would grow up to be a Frey if left alive." Then Hosteen became red in the face and started yelling again and it took a better part of another hour's turn. Sansa could barely hold back her laughter when she heard Wyman calmly tell Hosteen to bugger off and seeing Hosteen's reaction to it.

Roose Bolton came to the court and yelled for Hosteen to stop. He stopped within a heartbeat. Sansa could barely hold her laugh back again. Hosteen was merely Roose's lap dog in more ways than one. Roose was looking pretty serious, though; perhaps his famous leeching didn't quite cleanse him of the thick black blood that flowed in his heart. The blood she would spill not too long from now, she reminded herself with vengeance on her mind.

"My lords bannermen! Stannis Baratheon and his army is mere three days march from Winterfell. It is safe to assume he lost some men to the frost, but so have we. Probably not as many, but still quite a few. In other words, I declare that the wedding will take place today. The bard has arrived already and it would be a shame if we didn't have one at the wedding. Three days that Stannis has between here and him should be plenty time to get sober again. Let's not lose time, the wedding will take place in the godswood in an hour's turn. After that, there will be a feast in the Great Hall!"

Wyman muttered under his breath. "Aye, there will be a feast. And I will make sure you remember it for the rest of your days." Then he turned to Sansa and said "My lady, your guards and you should make your way to the Great Hall. Take the usual Manderly table. I have some… Arrangements to make before I can come there." Then he turned around and walked towards his tent.

When the married couple entered the Great Hall, Sansa almost fainted. Wyman was right. That girl isn't Arya. But I recognize her, she thought. I would be able to recognize that face fom across the Narrow Sea. How and why did Jeyne Poole come to act as Arya Stark? She turned to Wyman. She whispered as quietly as possible. "My lord, I want that bride to be left alive." Wyman just nodded and said nothing.

Three hour's turns later the feast was in full swing. Everybody was merry, the bard played happy and bawdy songs and wine and ale flowed like rarely before, Sansa noticed.

Wyman suddenly stood up. "My dear liege Lord Bolton! I have a special treat that I brought with me from White Harbour just for this occasion, if you please." Sansa looked around and saw three huge pies. Roose was watching with suspicion. It could be seen from afar that he doesn't trust Wyman on this one. "Meat pies, a special recipe from White Harbour. Pies this size are usually used for royal weddings and while this wedding isn't quite royal, it's likely as close as we in the North will ever get. So I made sure we had enough."

He started cutting the pie into pieces large enough to fit a plate and personally carried them to Roose, Ramsay and everybody else on the dais. After serving the dais, he said "Our friends from the Twins are very honourable guests, so they get to be next to get some of this specially made pie!" After he served most of the Frey lords, he yelled "Best pie you have ever tasted, my friends! Enjoy it. I know I shall. This is probably the last time for me to have a chance to taste a pie this good."

Roose and Hosteen were looking at Wyman with disgust and mistrust. Sansa noticed that Roose didn't eat a bite of the pie until Wyman had one himself.

A while later the bard seemed to run out of happy songs and he started singing mostly ballads. After the third ballad, Wyman, more jolly with every cup he emptied, told him to play 'The Rat Cook', which the bard gladly obeyed. Hosteen Frey was shooting daggers from his eyes when the song started playing. Sansa thought 'Feeling guilty, scum?' and joined in the singing. The feast continued long into the night and even Sansa had a cup of wine or two and was feeling a little bit dizzy. Her guards had drunk two cups each and Sansa felt bad for them. But when she urged them to drink more as she wasn't expecting trouble, one of them said "My lady, you are very important to Lord Manderly. We dare not disobey him and put you into trouble." Seeing that she won't make them drink more, she didn't bother trying again.

She got tired after the bard ran out of happy songs again and night crawled over Winterfell, so she decided to go to sleep. Her guards were quick to rise after her, as usual. They followed her to her tent and just as she was thinking of sending them away, someone jumped on her and pinned her under him. She screamed in fear, remembering very clearly how she nearly got raped in King's Landing. The guards grabbed the man as quickly as they could before he could do any damage to her, but still, after they beat the man and disposed of him, she was shaking. The shaking was so intense she could barely walk, so she staggered towards one of the guards and threw her hands around his chest, holding onto his armour with all her remaining strength. The guard put one of her hands around his shoulder, the other took the other hand and since they were taller than her, they carried her to her tent. She was silent the whole way, stream of tears running down her cheeks. They laid her down on her bed and finally she got back the ability to speak.

"Th-Thank you. I am indebted to you, my lords."

"Not at all, my lady. We swore Lord Manderly that we would protect you with our lives. What we did was our duty to our Queen."

Sansa got startled for a moment, then she remembered that the two guards were with her when Wyman told Howland and Hother her real identity. They must be very loyal to him, she thought. She then spoke in a quiet voice. "I suppose that no ill will befall me now, but just to be sure, would the two of you be so kind as to guard me tonight? The assailant caught me unawares."

The men just nodded and one of them walked out of the tent while the other one lay down close to her bed. "He'll guard for a while and I'll try to sleep. Then we will switch. In the case of emergency, the other will be awoken as well. You have nothing to worry, Your Grace. That's how we protected you the whole time here. Sleep well," he said.

"Sleep well, my lord." She then tried to sleep and before long she managed to lose consciousness.

She was on the throne of Winterfell, with her crown and her Queensguard around her. The doors of the Great Hall opened and through them stepped Rickon with his toddler walk. Sansa couldn't hold back the happiness as he went straight in her arms. He looked at her and said "I am glad you're home, Sansa." That simple sentence made her so happy she squeezed him tight and started crying tears of joy, but as she squeezed, Rickon disappeared and Bran appeared at the entrance. She didn't know what was happening. Bran walked towards her with his swift and sure steps. He got to her throne and kneeled before her. "Sansa, you look majestic. A true queen!" Then he stood up and as Sansa tried to hug him, he disappeared too. Now Arya was at the entrance and she showed Sansa her fighting moves as she got closer and closer to the throne. Then, at the throne she spoke. "My Queen. I vow to always protect you." She bowed and stepped closer to Sansa, then hugged her. When Sansa tried to return the embrace, Arya disappeared and Robb showed up. He walked towards her with a kingly grace and Sansa enjoyed it, hoping she would be able to be like that as well. His movement was sublime and as he approached the throne, Sansa stood up and Robb hugged her. "My dear sister, I know you'll be a good Queen." He let go. Sansa was crying and when she tried to hug him again, he disappeared and Jon started walking towards her. She didn't know what to expect from him. They never really got along with each other. He walked towards her in a straight line like the warrior he was now. At the throne he knelt. "Queen in the North. Sounds very nice. A true Stark, unlike me, destined to rule this land. May your reign be long and prosperous, half sister." Sansa hugged him, but Jon didn't evaporate like the others before him. After a while, she let go of Jon. He was smiling and tears ran down his cheeks. "Thank you, Sansa." He reached for her hand and Sansa reluctantly let him take it. He carried her hand to his mouth and just as he was about to kiss it, he disappeared like all the rest. Now Eddard and Catelyn walked down the way to the throne, smiling and hand in hand, as loving to one another as she had always remembered them. She couldn't hold back and ran towards them. She hugged them as tightly as she could. Eddard caressed her hair and said "My dear daughter a queen. I never dared dream of this. I'm proud, Sansa." Sansa was on the verge of crying like a baby now. Catelyn took Sansa's face in her hands and said "I have raised you to be a princess. You have overgrown that with becoming a queen. I hope you have remembered my lessons well, dear Sansa." Sansa was sobbing and trying to talk through her tears now. "Wait! Don't go yet! There's so much I have to tell you!" Eddard took her by the chin and said "We never leave. Nobody ever does." Sansa looked around her and saw all her siblings in a circle around her. All of them had their right hand on their hearts. Sansa looked at Eddard and Catelyn who had their hands on their hearts now as well. Catelyn spoke. "We are always here, Sansa. We will never be forgotten." Every one of them repeated after her like a canon. Then Eddard spoke again. "Winter is here. The North remembered. It always does. A wolf may never truly be tamed."

Sansa woke up. She felt something on her face. When she traced her fingers over it, she realized that it was her tears that froze on her cheeks. Winter is here, like her father told her in the dream. She was scared now. She heard screams outside. Her fear turned into wrath in an instant. "Hosteen Frey again? Does he have nothing better to do?"

One of her guards stood by her bed. "Your Grace, don't try to go outside. There's a battle going on."

**Update! Warning: major deaths are coming.**

**As always, thank you for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Battle? What battle?"

"Battle for Winterfell, Your Grace."

"Has Lord Stannis arrived?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Who is it then?"

"Greywater Watch, White Harbour, Last Hearth, Torrhen's Square, Barrowton and Rills versus Dreadfort and their loyalists, Your Grace."

"Torrhen's Square? Barrowton? Rills? When have Tallharts, Dustins and Ryswells join our alliance?"

"Lord Manderly tells us that soon after we have left the feast Lady Dustin offered her men and the Stout men. Her lord father Rodrik Ryswell is said to have given his men to our cause after finding out that she did the same. They are loyal to you, Your Grace. As for Lady Tallhart, she confided to Lord Manderly that she is willing to fight Boltons before the feast began."

The battle was raging outside. Sansa heard screams she thought were Wyman's and she got scared they might not win this battle. But surely, she convinced herself, Lord Wyman couldn't possibly fight out there, he was much too immobile and old for that. So were Lord Howland and Lord Hother, she remembered. It calmed her down.

I shouldn't think we might lose this battle, she scolded herself. If she wouldn't believe in their victory, nobody would. She rose up and walked to the bowl that was supposed to hold water. When she got to it she found out that all the water has frozen. Without any water, she had to remove the frozen tears from her cheek with her bare hands. It hurt as she scraped them away, but it would hurt even more had she left them on her face. Now I must hold my promise not to cry, she thought. This time I will keep my promise, may the old gods and the new punish me if I don't.

It seemed to her like an eternity has passed. But more likely it was barely an hour's turn, she said to herself. But the screams and fighting seemed to have died down. Was the battle over? Did it just move to another location? Sansa started praying to all the gods she knew existed. Gods, make it so we win in the end, please! I don't want any more fighting inside Winterfell's walls. It has suffered enough.

One of her guards brought her food. She thanked him. "Thank you, my lord. But you didn't have to risk your head to bring me food."

"Your Grace, I took the food from Lord Manderly's own supplies. It wasn't dangerous."

"Nonetheless. I beg you, don't leave the tent until it's necessary."

"Yes, Your Grace. As you say."

He bowed and sat down in the middle of the tent, ready to jump at a moment's notice. Sansa checked out what he had brought her. She saw black bread and some fruit. Nothing too lavish, but it had to do. She wouldn't risk the lives of her guards. While eating, she tried to find out who they are for the first time. They both had family crests painted on their armour, but she didn't really recognize any of them at first glance. Though as soon as she looked closer, she recognized the crossed keys on the armour of the guard that brought her food. He is a Locke, then. She tried to remember anything about them that Maester Luwin had taught her. She remembered that they are lords of Oldcastle, but for the life of her their family words wouldn't cross her mind. After thinking for a while, she realized she would never find the right words, so she started examining the other crest. Three sacks on a purple field with a white border. She had to think hard to remember the name, but finally it dawned on her that it is the crest of House Woolfield of Sheepshead Hills. But all she knew about them was that Lady Leona Woolfield is Wyman's wife.

That she knew at least that about them gave her some happiness, but at the same time there was sadness on her mind. The two noble guards were protecting her for more than a week now and she never cared to learn their names or at least their family names. She would see to it that they are properly rewarded if I win, she thought. When, not if, she corrected herself. I must believe. Her guards believed it. Wyman, Hother, Howland and others all believed in it. She should too.

She was starting to get thirsty, but there wasn't any water that was in a drinking state. They had fire, but she wasn't sure if putting the washing bowl close to the fire was a smart idea. The heat from the fire wasn't really strong and the bowl would have to be set right next to the fire. Then the bowl might catch on fire and the water would spill on it, extinguishing it, which would likely mean their death by freezing as they didn't have the means to start a new fire other than driftwood. She couldn't send out her guards for water because she didn't know if it was safe outside.

Thinking how to solve her thirst problems, Sansa heard a man breathing heavily outside the tent. Guard Locke arose, bared his sword and carefully looked out of the tent. Sansa was scared, thinking about who that person might be and what his intentions were. Would he kill her or would he rape her first? She was afraid that the battle was lost. Oh, gods, make it so it is a friendly person!

Locke bowed and widened the entrance to the tent. Sansa was relieved. This must mean that Lord Wyman is here, she thought happily. And it was.

Wyman entered the tent with an out of breath squire. Wyman's face was widened in a smile that could bear only good news.

"Locke, bring us some wine! Don't forget the water, this squire here and Her Grace are doubtless thirsty."

Locke bowed again and disappeared. Sansa rose from her bed and looked at the squire hopefully. He dutifully knelt when he saw her.

"Your Grace, I bear good news."

Sansa was overjoyed. "Arise. Tell me the news."

The squire obeyed. "Your Grace, the battle is done. Lords Bolton, Frey and some of their higher bannermen as well are held captive. You are free to walk through Winterfell. You are the Queen in the North."

Hearing these words, Sansa jumped on the squire and hugged him with all her strength. The squire, not knowing what to do, just stood there and dutifully waited for her to let her go. When she released him from the hug, she kissed him on both cheeks. "Thank you for the good news," she said. Tears ran down her cheeks again, but she didn't care. They would melt away sooner or later. "Tell me your name and whom you are squiring for."

He got nervous. "I-I'm in the service o-of Lord Harwood Stout. M-My name is Roger."

Sansa then sent him away. She laughed like she had never done before. She was Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North! She had always dreamed of being a queen, even after her betrothal with Joffrey was annulled. Lord Wyman spoke.

"Your Grace, everything Roger said is true. And more, to be honest. Ramsay Snow was killed in battle. Aenys and Hosteen Frey are injured, but barely. I plan on trading them for Greatjon Umber. I'm sure Whoresbane would be glad to see his nephew again. Stannis' army is to reach us in two days, so we must prepare a negotiator. I thought you, escorted by Howland and your two guards would be the right choice, is you should so desire, of course."

"I would desire that. Thank you, Lord Wyman."

"Furthermore," he said, waving his hand to someone outside, "you should present yourself to Roose Bolton wearing your proper colours." A man entered the tent, holding in his hands a dress. But this was no ordinary dress. Wyman took it from his arms and showed the front of it to Sansa. It was a beautiful dress with white sleeves and grey body. Where her heart was supposed to be, there was an embroidered crest of House Stark, complete with their family words on a ribbon under it. The dress was made of warm wool and even the skirt was thick enough that Sansa would barely need to wear anything else. It even had a hood that could be worn over her head if the cold got really bad.

The sight of the dress made her speechless. She covered her open mouth with her left hand.

"I had it made before we departed White Harbour. It is the work of my lady wife's personal tailor, one of the finest in the North. Made from sheep wool from pastures in Sheepshead Hills. Consider it a gift from our family, Your Grace."

Wyman handed her the dress. "I will leave you in privacy so you can try this dress on." He bowed and left the tent together with the tailor and Woolfield. She was alone in her tent for the first time since she arrived in Winterfell. It gave her a slight sense of dread, so she changed clothes quickly. She then called them back in. She really thought this dress was the prettiest she had ever seen.

"Your Grace, if I may be as bold as to say it, you look stunning in this dress," Wyman said immediately upon entering. Locke and Woolfield agreed with him.

"Thank you, my lord. For everything."

"Your Grace, thank me for the dress if you must; don't thank me for obeying my duties to House Stark."

"My lord, I have just one question left. If I'm a queen, isn't there something missing?"

Wyman looked at her for a moment and said "You're right. I have thought of that as well. We weren't able to find the crown your brother wore and it is probably rusting somewhere in the Green Fork. But we decided to forge a new one, a crown that somehow better reflects the personality of the Northern kings." Saying that, he showed her a wooden box that was near the tent entrance. "Locke, if you'd be so kind. I can't bow that low."

Locke obeyed him and opened the box. He carefully took out the crown. It was made of iron that was painted silver and ornamented with direwolf heads in different positions. He put it on Sansa's head and she was surprised when she found out that it was lighter than she expected, given it was made of iron.

"Now, Your Grace, you are in a perfect condition to present yourself to your subjects. The proper coronation will be done tonight. If you please," Wyman said, pointing at the tent's exit. Sansa exited the tent out into the winter cold. It was the first winter day she ever saw and it was much colder than she expected, but the dress managed to stop most of the cold from reaching her. Walking towards the Great Hall, a makeshift road was made from the soldiers kneeling on one knee with their weapons on the ground. Sansa saw that most of them had dents in their armour, some of them were missing a piece of it, some were missing more and every armour was red with blood of her enemies.

She stopped for a moment. At first she didn't quite believe her eyes, but it could not be anyone else. Howland Reed was one of the men kneeling along the road, with his armour bloody from helm to sabaton. He was breathing heavily and Sansa noticed that his spear hand was bare and had a long gash from the elbow down.

"Lord Howland, you are hurt. Go see a maester, please."

"Your Grace," he said, not moving an inch, "Don't worry about this wound. The person who struck my arm did so while falling from my spear in his neck."

"My lord, do not act tough, please. You need a maester."

"I will go see one as soon as you go inside, Your Grace. I didn't want to miss out on seeing my Queen take her rightful throne."

She curtsied to him and turned to Wyman. "Why did he fight?"

"Your Grace, I couldn't hold him back. The zeal in his eyes, his spear... He killed more men than any other warrior today, I bet. And at his age. The man is indestructible."

Sansa was thinking about the stories she heard about the Tower of Joy. Seven men of the North, her lord father and Howland between them, against three of the most talented swordfighters ever to serve in the Kingsguard. And only her father and Howland survived. He was brought into this world under a lucky star, Sansa thought. As she was walking on with Wyman by her side, she asked him "Can you tell me the battle numbers?"

"We had close to five thousand men each, so it was quite a fair fight. But our men mostly weren't drinking at the feast, so we were more awake and fresh. In all, we lost close to eight hundred men. Bolton side lost more than four thousand. Those who survived are mostly wounded and I don't expect them to live much longer. We have maybe five hundred wounded. Some are unfortunately beyond help. The more important bannermen and lords are captured. I personally demanded they not be harmed so Your Grace would be able to choose their punishment herself."

"What about the bride?"

"As you commanded, Your Grace, she's alive and well."

Wyman continued to tell her the numbers and slowly they reached the gates of the Great Hall. At the gates she turned around and saw that all the soldiers that formed a road before were standing behind her escort. She felt she had to say something.

"Bannermen of the North! Today you have fought valiantly and succeeded. I can only offer my humble thanks and a promise of being properly rewarded for your courage!"

It was like her short speech pulled a trigger. All the soldiers took their weapons and thrust them in the air. And they were calling for her. "The Queen in the North! Sansa Stark, first of her name! All hail!"

She smiled and gave them a curtsy. She had to be extra careful not to lose her crown. She then turned to Wyman. "I will see the bride now, please."

**Sansa is on the throne now, but the intrigue is yet to begin. Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

The descent in the dungeons of Winterfell was a very interesting experience for the new Queen in the North. With the torch being the only source of light it was somewhat scary. Even more so when the light showed the drawings on the staircase walls. The drawings mostly showed different means of punishing different crimes and they were probably dating back to the Age of Heroes, because Sansa couldn't believe there were still some punishments quite as gruesome as depicted. One of the drawings depicted a man losing his hand for getting a feel of a woman that wasn't his wife, or at least that's what Sansa believed was written since they moved by too fast to read through the full caption which was also written in strange letters that made it look even older.

She was wondering what the dungeons looked like. Arya and Bran surely knew, she was certain of that. But she was never the kind of girl that would want to see the dungeons. She was a lady. But she had to visit them now. After seeing the drawings, she was afraid that the gaolers might have done bad things to Jeyne. When they arrived at the bottom of the steppes, one of the squires that held the torch lit a few others down the corridor. Sansa could now see what the dungeons actually looked like. Small cells, barely large enough for a hay bed of normal size which took away half the space in it. The air was also very damp and it smelt of decay. She wanted to spend as little time down there as possible.

"Take me to the bride, Ser Tallhart. Be quick about it, please, I can't bear to stay here for a long time."

Jon Tallhart nodded and showed her the way to the third cell from the left where a small girl with dark hair was huddled in the corner of a cell, shaking violently from the cold. When Sansa stopped in front of the cell, the prisoner shyly looked up with her brown eyes. When she realized who was standing in front of her, she started talking and crying at the same time without ever being asked anything.

"The Lannisters made me do it, Sansa, you must believe me. I never wanted to do it, Ramsay scared me. I was afraid they might kill me, like they did to father. Please, you must believe me. Queen Cersei got to me in King's Landing and told me I was to act like Arya and that she would kill my whole remaining family if I didn't. Sansa, please, set me free. I never wanted to do it. I was just afraid. Please."

After the confession she broke down and started crying loudly. Sansa was watching her the whole time. She isn't acting, Sansa thought. She is telling the truth. Or she's a bloody fine mummer. The thought crossed her mind a few times. Will she ever be able to believe Jeyne again? She wasn't sure how to find out if Jeyne's acting or not.

She turned to Jon. "Let her out. I shall give her a chance to prove that she isn't lying." She could only hope she won't regret that decision. But she would think that over later. Now she had more pressing matters that needed attending. A squire opened the door to Jeyne's cell and she jumped out and hugged Sansa under the knees, still sobbing and repeating 'Thank you, thank you, thank you'. Sansa caressed her hair and this made her stand up and kiss Sansa on both cheeks before letting go. "Ser Tallhart, where do you keep Roose Bolton?"

"On the lower floor. We thought that would be for the best, Your Grace."

"Bring him to my solar. Make sure he's in shackles. I don't want any surprises."

"The solar, Your Grace? Are you sure?"

"I am. I also want two guards with him."

"As you command, Your Grace."

Jon picked two squires to go with him. The remainder of the group started ascending back up. Jeyne didn't know what was happening, that much could be seen on her face. "Sansa, why are they calling you 'Your Grace'? What happened?"

"I am the Queen in the North and Lady of Winterfell. Before long I'll be Lady of Dreadfort as well."

Jeyne was surprised at the immediate response. "You? But how?"

"I'm the only Stark that is known to be alive, that's why. Thanks to Lord Manderly. But remember, Jeyne: I might believe you that the Lannisters made you pose as Arya, but don't think that means you have freedom of movement. For reasons I'm sure you understand, you are only permitted freedom of the castle. If you ever try to escape, I won't hesitate to imprison you again, but this time for a longer period of time."

"Yes, Sansa, I understand."

"Good. Furthermore, if you visit me, we'll never be alone in the room to make sure you don't harbour any ill intentions."

"Will that last forever?"

"Keep asking questions like that and it will. When you have earned back my trust, I might lift these restrictions off you. But don't expect that to come soon."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Please, make me cherish the decision of your release as a good one, Jeyne, Sansa was thinking to herself. Soon they emerged from the underground and Sansa took a deep breath of fresh winter air. She could barely feel the cold through her dress. Jeyne was less fortunate, though. The poor girl was shaking so hard she could barely walk. Somehow the dungeons weren't as cold as the outside. Sansa switched her step for a quicker one so that Jeyne wouldn't have to suffer more cold than necessary. Once inside the keep, nothing got in the way of Sansa getting to her solar where upon entering she found three lit braziers which helped keep the cold away. She sat herself down on a chair and waited for guards to bring Roose before her.

When they finally did, she did not see the man that hosted a wedding feast the night before. What she saw was a man in a bad shape. His beard was a stubble due to the fact he couldn't shave this morning, his legendary pale eyes were even paler than she expected, with a gash on his forehead. Doubtless he got that from someone who was fighting him.

Sansa greeted him calmly. "Ser Roose Bolton, welcome to my solar. We have met and have no need to introduce ourselves, do we?"

If Roose was scared, he didn't show it. He sat down on his chair as comfortably as he could, but the shackles made it very hard for him. Good, Sansa thought. He has no right to a comfortable seat. Maybe he'll get one in one of the hells, whichever one he manages to find himself in. His answer was short. "My lady."

"That's 'Your Grace', ser. Best remember that."

"Your Grace, then. No big difference, my fate will still be the same."

"Do you think that? Do you have any idea what I plan on doing to you?"

"Nothing pretty, I presume."

"I definitely don't plan on leeching you to better health, ser, if that's what you mean."

His face became less pale. He obviously didn't like japes about his beloved leeching, Sansa thought.

"Queen in the North, then, is it, Your Grace? Calling himself King didn't turn out so well for your brother, as you will sure remember."

"Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me."

The calmness in his voice shocked Sansa greatly. She didn't expect him to say it without persuasion. Roose could easily see that. "What? You didn't think I'd confess? It's over and done, what use would it be for me to deny it? I'll die all the same."

Sansa had to quickly regain her calm. "Do you have no honour? No loyalty? How much did the Lannisters pay you?"

Roose answered without batting an eye. "I have honour and loyalty, but primarily to my family. All the Lannisters paid me was the title of Lord Paramount of the North and High Lord of WInterfell."

"You sold your king so you could take Winterfell? While you knew it was destroyed by the ironborn?"

"I sold my king for my life. Your brother was losing the war. He chose love over duty, over promise, over honour. I didn't want to end on a losing side of the war. When I saw Walder Frey's face after that betrayal, I knew I should get on his good side. In that moment he was so angry with your brother, he accepted my help without ever thinking it might be a scam from my side."

"That's why you killed him and who knows how many Northerners? A few thousand Northerners, slaughtered at a wedding? Betrayed after having Frey bread and salt?"

"Ah, yes, the ancient guest right. Everybody still believes in that. But nobody believes in the first night anymore, and it's just as old a tradition. Isn't that weird?"

Sansa was uneasy at his words, but she couldn't show that to him. "There is no honour in first night. Only a husband should have his bride."

"Then why should one care about guest right? What honour is there? Because you're my guest, I'm not allowed to tell you you're acting like a bloody idiot, is that what you're saying, Your Grace?"

"Killing a man is hardly 'telling him he's acting like a bloody idiot', ser."

"I told him he was acting like a bloody idiot when he decided to wed that Westerling girl. Didn't help much, obviously. That wedding was the beginning of his defeat. What difference would it make if he died storming King's Landing like he wanted to? The only difference is that fewer men died at the Twins that would die at King's Landing."

The manner of his speech was so matter-of-factly that Sansa didn't know what to do anymore.

"What kind of a monster kills a man on a wedding?"

"The kind that wants fewer deaths along the line, Your Grace."

Sansa chuckled. She had him now. "Did it result in that, though? The North remembers, ser. You should know that by now."

Roose was visibly irritated. "I married Arya Stark to my only son…"

Sansa interrupted. "I'm sorry, ser, but you know as well as I do that that girl isn't Arya. You know as well as I do that Arya would spit in your bastard's face rather than marry him. And you know as well as I do that Arya would kill your bastard the moment she would lay her eyes on him. _Especially_ after what happened at the Twins. Do you really think I don't know my sister from an old friend of mine, ser?"

Roose didn't say anything. "Don't tell me your tongue is dry, ser?"

"I am no ser," he said quietly. "I am Lord of the Dreadfort!"

"No, you're not, ser. _I_ am Lady of Dreadfort. I'm doing you a favour, ser. By all rights I should be simply calling you Roose."

Roose was getting angry. "You're _not_ Lady of Dreadfort while I'm alive!"

Sansa continued like she didn't hear him. "Tell me, ser, where did you stab my brother and with which weapon?"

Roose turned pale again. "Does it matter?"

"To me it does."

Roose has seemingly given up. "Fine then. Heart. With a longsword. And I twisted it after."

"I see. Did you say anything to him?" Sansa stretched her hand to one guard who put a longsword in her hand. It was very heavy and she had to hold it with both hands to keep it from falling on the floor. Roose looked at her with a smile on his face.

"Don't tell me you plan on killing me yourself? You can barely hold a sword that knights carry in one hand."

"That's what you said to my brother?"

"No. I said that to you."

"Never mind. I know what you said."

With those words, she mustered all her strength to point the sword directly at Roose's heart. Then, summoning all her hate and anger towards the man, she thrust into his chest. While doing that, she said "When you see your traitorous excuses for soldiers down in whichever hell you manage to find yourself in, ser, tell them that Queen Sansa Stark sends her regards and that she is angry she couldn't kill them all herself." Then she twisted the blade. Roose's blood kept squirting out of the wound for a while. She didn't pull the sword out until the blood stopped flowing. The blood was a very dark shade of red. Sansa felt uneasy at the sight of it. Was he just addicted to leeching so much that not being leeched for one day actually corrupted his blood or did they really help with it?

She couldn't hold the sword anymore and dropped it. Then she ran to the chamber pot and filled it with vomit. When she turned around, she saw the guard cleaning the sword like nothing happened and then he sheathed the sword without a word.

The Boltons are all dead now, she said to herself. Next, the Freys.

**Not much to say here. Jeyne will play a role later on.**

**Thanks for reading.**


End file.
